Ready to play - Part 3

Kinsey picks up the bear. Really, was there a plan B?

She holds it up, stares into the glassy eyes.

It is heavy.

“Hi, Kinsey!” the bear says in a light tone that belies its weight. “I’m so glad you came home.”

Kinsey looks towards the bedroom door. It’s wide open, and surely her parents are lurking in the hallway. She investigates, peering around the doorframe.

Empty.

She shuts the door.

“Are you ready to get dressed?” says the bear. “Are you ready to put on a show?” The object’s voice gets even higher, Alvin and the Chipmunks-style, and sings, “Momma and me, pretty as peaches!”

Kinsey sits down heavily on the bed.

“Ready?” the bear asks.

“No,” replies Kinsey flatly. She turns the bear over, fingers combing through brown fur as she searches for an off switch.

The bear’s reply manages to sound offended. “You kidding?”

She turns the object around and glares at its expressionless face. “You’re the only thing in this room that’s new.” She gets off the bed and walks over to the window. The teenage groundskeeper has gone, but Kinsey can hear his mower behind the house. Making everything perfect. Making it just right.

Nothing to see here.

Kinsey shakes her head.  She shouldn’t have come back. “Should’ve stayed at the Federal Grove bed & breakfast, that would’ve set tongues wagging.”

There’s the slightest, almost imperceptible whirring sound from the bear, and then it replies. “Southern-style food in an elegant country setting. I love their country ham sandwich!”

Kinsey snorts with derision. “What? You gonna tell me about their maple syrup next?”

More whirring. “Run through a high-pressure filter press. Join us the last weekend in February for our annual maple syrup festival!”

Kinsey makes another attempt to find an off switch but comes up with nothing but fur. And nothing to see in the bear’s dark, glassy eyes but her own reflection.

Kinsey shakes her head. “I’m talking to a plushie.”

“I am Mr. Theodore Hugglesworth,” the bear says grandly. “At your service.” Its tone softens, back to the sweet, cartoonish voice of before. “And you used to talk to your plushies all the time, Birdie.”

Kinsey doesn’t drop the bear.

She puts her mouth to the bear’s ear, and whispers “Daddy?” She looks around her old room, even though she knows she’s alone.

She already looked in the closet.

But did she check under the bed? Did she check for monsters?

“Hey, Kinsey,” says Mr Hugglesworth. “Why aren’t you changed yet? Momma got you the perfect dress. You’re going to look pretty as a peach.”

Kinsey swallows. “How do you know what I’m wearing?”

“I’m right here, silly!” The bear chuckles. And then, in a sing-song voice that makes Kinsey’s blood run cold, “I can see you.”

She doesn’t throw the bear against the wall. She doesn’t panic. She’s not a child, she’s not afraid of ghosts, and she’s definitely not checking under the bed.

She holds the bear up by its front paws, swings it back and forth. “Mr Hugglesworth…”

“My friends call me Theodore,” it replies. “And you’re making me dizzy!”

Kinsey stops swinging the bear. “Mr Hugglesworth. You’re some kind of smart device, and some creep is using you to talk to me…to look at me.” She peers into the bear’s glassy eyes. “There’s a camera in there.” She sniffs. “You’re a glorified nanny-cam.”

“Is that what you need?” the bear asks slowly, and its whirring grows louder. “Do you need watching, Birdie?”

The eyes aren’t dark anymore. They aren’t made of glass. They might just be made of fire.

Kinsey will look away. She will close her eyes. Because the bear is too bright. Mr Hugglesworth is a blinding lightshow with too many colors to count.

She watches the eyes, she soaks in the light, and it’s not too bright after a while. It’s not too bad. It’s just everything, it’s just the whole world. Kinsey’s mouth drops open, and as she watches the kaleidoscope, if something is going to be put inside.

Kinsey sits on the floor, the teddy bear in her lap. It’s not her bear. She found it on her bed, in her old room.

“Silly girl,” says the bear. “You fell asleep!”

Kinsey rubs her eyes, and with her eyes closed, she can see the colors again. When she opens her eyes, she’s back in the room. Did it get darker? Has she been sitting here all day?

She listens for the telltale sound of the mowing, dim but there. She glances to the bedroom window. The sun is still in the sky, and whatever happened didn’t take as long as she thought.

“Have a nice nap?” the bear asks mildly. And then it giggles. “Silly girl, you drooled!”

Kinsey wipes at her chin self-consciously, and then she remembers. It’s okay if she drooled a little during her nap. Because she’s just a silly girl. And the information prompts a wide smile to accompany the vapid look in her eyes.

“So silly,” confirms the bear.

“I’m not silly,” Kinsey replies, but her protest is just play-acting, it’s only pretend, and she giggles to prove it. She strokes the bear’s fur and looks into its face. No more lights, just the glassy, dark eyes. “You’re silly,” she accuses. “You’re silly, Mr…Huggs…Huggels…” She trails off.

“Mr. Theodore Hugglesworth,” corrects the bear authoritatively. “But my friends call me Teddy.” Its tone changes softens. “You’re my friend, Birdie. You’re just a silly girl.”

Kinsey finds herself nodding. She’s a silly girl. She feels drunk, vulnerable, wide open. She’s been roofied by a teddy bear. Just like Momma said, if she went to live in the big city, she’d be taken advantage of.

But she’s not in the big city. She’s home.

Home, sweet home.

“Ready to get dressed?” the bear asks lightly. “Ready to be a peach?”

Kinsey shakes her head, but she’s still smiling. “Don’t wanna be a peach,” she says, her lips feeling heavy. “That’s for little kids.”

“But you love dressing up for Momma,” the bear says. “And think of the pictures. You’re gonna be adorable.”

Kinsey produces a huffing sound. “Fine.” She struggles to her feet and goes over to the closet, the bear dangling from her hand.

“It’s silly,” Kinsey declares critically of the outfit. A blue knit dress, trimmed in pink with a drop waist.

“Well,” the bear argues, “you are a silly girl.”

Kinsey shrugs, pulls the hanger off the rail and sits back down, the bear and the dress in her lap. “It’s from before,” she says sulkily, still managing to smile. “I’m not little anymore.” She frowns, belches, and raises her hands in the air. “I’m all big!”

The bear grunts. “Big and silly. I hope you’ll be good if the reporter asks questions tomorrow.”

“Good?” Kinsey looks at the bear quizzically.

“You know,” prompts the bear. “You have to be good and tell the right story. For Daddy, for the primary. And after that, we can go get pizza at Casey’s. You love Casey’s.”

Kinsey pets the bear’s fur. “I’m gonna tell the truth.” She’s feeling queasy, but stroking the bear helps. She’s eaten something bad, she’s going to need some medicine. She doesn’t want any pizza, not right now .

“And what’s the truth, Birdie?”

Kinsey sighs. “We all know Daddy’s done some shady stuff.”

“That’s ancient history, Kinsey. Nobody’s perfect, but Daddy’s been good for a long time. So has Momma, and so have you. Volunteering at the Auburn Museum, and then at the senior center. Such a good girl!”

Kinsey shakes her head and whispers, “But Daddy burned the house down.”

The bear produces the briefest of whirring sounds, and then it laughs. “Silly! The house is still standing. You’re sitting in it right now!” It laughs again and says sweetly, “Silly Birdie.”

Kinsey smiles. She is silly. She’s such a silly-

She pouts. “No. The other house. The one in Chesterfield.”

“Birdie, you were just a little girl, you’re not remem-“

“And then we left Indiana and came here,” Kinsey says. It’s easy to remember. And a story that used to cause her such pain is easy to tell now, easy enough with the teddy bear in her lap. “And then the investi…inves..the man with the clicky pen came and he saw me on the porch and he asked all these questions. And Daddy came and got mad, and he said the clicky pen man wouldn’t be coming back.” Kinsey holds the bear tight. “Momma said, if the cops ask, I had to say there hadn’t been no man. That I had to play dumb.”

Her grin returns. “But I’m not dumb! I remember it all!”

The bear’s whirring returns as well. Kinsey looks down at it, stares into its face. “You need fresh batteries, Teddy?”

The bear says, “It’s okay, Birdie. We’re going to give you a fresh start.”

The bear’s eyes begin to change, to flicker and fleck until they are not glass, they are fire.

Kinsey frowns. “No, Teddy, I don’t-“

“We’re all going to get a fresh start.”

Kinsey’s own eyes widen as she stares. Her lips part, and a rivulet of drool runs down her chin as she gazes at the lights.